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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448477">My Heart Beats For Yours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiheardeverything/pseuds/eleanorrigby'>eleanorrigby (andiheardeverything)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, Medical Conditions, No Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:14:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiheardeverything/pseuds/eleanorrigby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Patrick, David’s heart was a fragile, guarded thing. Before David, Patrick’s heart never knew where it belonged.</p><p>With Patrick, David’s heart warmed, unfurled, and blossomed. With David, Patrick’s heart no longer ached, but felt seen, safe. </p><p>And then David gets sick. And Patrick’s heart has to learn how to live as David’s fails.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>291</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is the first I've written after a 2+ year writer's block. I was scared I'd never write again, and then these beautiful boys decided they'd prove me wrong. With that said, please be gentle! Constructive criticism is welcomed, but I am a fragile flower. I have also only seen up through season 5, because that is all that is available to me. </p><p>Also, I promise there will be no character death in this. There will be angst, but I promise things will be okay.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time it happened was during a sweltering summer evening in early July. David was over at Patrick’s apartment for the night, curled up beside his fiancé on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in the movie they were watching, but really just counting down the hours until he could reasonably go to bed. An unexplained, heavy exhaustion hung over him, causing his eyes to slip close, only jolted back open when Patrick laughed loudly, gesturing to something on the screen.</p><p>David gave a half-hearted laugh, mostly to pretend that he hadn’t been falling asleep at… he glanced down at his watch and groaned. It was just after seven, and the movie was only halfway over. He wasn’t normally tired like this in the evening, but it had been a long day; the morning had been spent in the heat of his booth at the weekly Farmer’s Market that happened during the summer months, and the afternoon had been consumed with a much needed deep clean of the store.</p><p>Come to think of it, he hadn’t even had time to sneak in much of a lunch, only snacking on the snap peas and strawberries Patrick had left in the back of the store, and the only beverage he’d had today was coffee. That explained it. He was tired and dehydrated and should probably put something non-caffeinated into his bloodstream.</p><p>“Do you still have those mini Gatorades in the fridge?” David asked, drawing Patrick’s attention away from the TV. The sun was getting low, sending a warm golden glow through the window across Patrick’s face.</p><p>“You hate those,” Patrick replied, a small frown creasing between his eyebrows. David reached up, smoothing out the furrowed brow, much to Patrick’s chagrin.</p><p>“I never said that,” David protested, and Patrick’s frown turned into a look of amusement.</p><p>“You specifically said that Gatorade was a hangover cure for people too poor to afford an IV solution. Which I might add, would include you.”</p><p>David huffed. “Okay, I still stand by that statement. But that doesn’t imply hate, and right now I’d love to drench myself with that horrid blue chemical.”</p><p>Patrick laughed and shook his head. “Yes, David. I still have those. Grab me one while you’re at it? Probably not a bad idea to get some electrolytes in after how hot it was today.”</p><p>David was already pushing himself off the couch when Patrick finished speaking, and had taken one step towards the kitchen when gravity decided to make itself known, sucking all the blood from his head.</p><p>A hazy blanket of black clouded his vision, his hearing funneling into a high ringing. His arms were tingling, hands full of pins and needles as he reached out blindly and found something hard, something solid,to hold onto, blinking rapidly while he waited for it to pass. Time fuzzed out for a moment and David was vaguely aware of a weight against his back, a murmured voice in his ear.</p><p>“David? Hey, you okay?”</p><p>David blinked, finding himself back in Patrick’s apartment, vision abruptly clearing and the ringing receding from his ears. He shook his head, righting himself from the chair back he had apparently grabbed onto, his legs only wobbling a little under him.</p><p>“Must have stood up too fast,” he said by way of explanation, pointedly ignoring Patrick’s worried face beside him. His hand was still on David’s back like he was scared David was about to fall over, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay?” Patrick asked, guiding David back to sit on the couch. David wanted to protest, but he was still feeling a bit like he’d gone through a wormhole and come out on the other side not quite right.</p><p>“Just a head rush,” David said, shaking off Patrick’s concern. “I used to get them all the time when I was younger. I’m fine, I promise. Just dehydrated.”</p><p>Patrick looked at him for longer than David was comfortable, but seemed to accept David was telling the truth - which he was, thank you very much - and nodded.</p><p>“You were out in the sun most of the day,” Patrick added, thoughtfully.“I’ll grab the Gatorades, and I’m going to fix up a cheese plate that you’re going to eat without complaining.”</p><p>David smiled, the fluttering feeling that took place in his stomach whenever Patrick cared for him making an appearance.</p><p>At least, it did until Patrick brought over the plate, a knowing smirk on his face.</p><p>“Really, Patrick? Ritz crackers and cheddar?”</p><p>Patrick laughed and leaned in to kiss David on the cheek. “Only the best for my favorite fiancé.”</p><p>David grumbled, but he ate the whole plate anyways.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It happened again the next day. And twice the day after. And enough times over the next few weeks that David lost track. He brushed it off; most of them were barely a hazy fuzz over his eyes, and only two had ended up with him blinking awake sitting on the ground with only a fuzzy memory of how he got there. Most of them - these <em>head rushes</em> as he’d taken to calling them - had happened when he was alone, and when someone was around he’d been able to use the old <em>I must have stood up too fast</em> excuse, which worked one hundred percent of the time. Well, except with Patrick.</p><p>Stupid Patrick and his ever-watching eyes, and his almost creepily innate way of knowing when something was up with David. But even Patrick seemed mollified with David’s acceptance of copious amounts of Gatorade and reassurances that he’d been eating three square meals a day.</p><p>That one was mostly a lie though. One that David did feel a twinge of guilt about, but not enough to fess up to it. The truth was that his appetite had steadily declined over the last few weeks, along with his energy levels - he’d fallen asleep during three of the last four movie nights - and barely even had enough energy for sex, something he’d never thought he’d ever admit to.</p><p>A fog seemed to have descended into his brain, and he found himself spacing out more often than not, and twice he’d rung up someone’s order wrong, and even forgot the prosciutto in Jocelyn’s weekly order.</p><p>But, if David excelled at anything, it was denial. And burying the truth under layers of Givenchy sweaters. He’d managed to convince himself it was just a summer cold. Those happened, right? Just a silly little cold - sans the runny nose, but with an annoying and frankly disgusting wet cough that he’d managed to hide from everyone except Patrick.</p><p>Again, stupid Patrick.</p><p>Stupid, beautiful Patrick.</p><p>Patrick’s knowing gazes or not, David figured he could power through this summer-cold-thing without making a scene, and it would be only a minor blip that he’d barely even remember. Something he would forget about after whatever Open Mic Night fiasco Patrick could dream up, or a night of shots and karaoke with Stevie in Elmdale.</p><p>It would be fine. Things were okay.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Things were not okay. It was early in the morning - okay, close to nine am - in late July and the temperature was already swelling up to what would surely be a record breaking heat wave, and Patrick’s car was broken.</p><p>“It’s not broken, David,” Patrick said, a frustrated note in his voice. He had the hood popped, his cute, but grumpy head under it, examining the engine for things that David didn’t know, or care to know, about.</p><p>“Well, it didn’t start, so I’d say that sounds pretty broken. It’s like, the only thing a car actually has to do.”</p><p>Patrick turned, wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and glared at David.</p><p>“Oh really? And what do you know about cars, David?”</p><p>David threw his hands up in fake surrender.</p><p>“Obviously nothing. So please, by any means, keep playing mechanic while I sit here and our customers are kept anxiously waiting for the store to open.”</p><p>“Please, no one is waiting for the store to open at nine on the dot,” Patrick said, but David could hear the stress in his voice. Normally David wouldn’t be so obstinate in a situation like this but he was tired, and cranky, and really, really regretting wearing a light-weight but long sleeved shirt today. He could feel it sticking to his back, damp with sweat, and the gravel on the ground around them already seemed to swirl with colors too bright to be real.</p><p>“You know Ronnie likes to stock up on her massage oil on Friday mornings. We can’t let the lesbians down.” David was poking at Patrick, and he knew he should stop, but he couldn’t seem to make himself.</p><p>“Fine, David. Let’s walk then. I’ll call a mechanic at lunch.” Patrick reached down to pull David off the curb of the sidewalk where he’d taken a seat. David crossed his arms.</p><p>“I meant call Alexis. We can’t walk in this, we’ll have a heat stroke!”</p><p>Patrick sighed and pinched his nose.</p><p>“It’s barely a twenty minute walk. It’ll take Alexis longer to get all her things together to come give us a ride.”</p><p>David realized Patrick was at the end of his rope - the vein that pulsed in his forehead when he got really upset had made it’s appearance - so he begrudgingly nodded and started walking.</p><p>They walked in silence for awhile, David focusing on the pavement under his feet, trying to ignore the way the sun was making his head throb, the sweat that was trickling down the back of his neck, making his hair stick to his skin. The ringing in his ears was back, only faint but enough to make him feel anxious, and blotches had started to form at the edge of his vision.</p><p><em>Just one foot in front of the other</em>, he thought, then they’d make it to the cool air conditioning of Rose Apothocary and he could take a breather. The thought of the gentle breeze of air conditioning was nearly enough to bring him to his knees, and embarrassingly, he felt the hot sting of tears pricking at his eyes.</p><p>They’d made it halfway to the store when his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and he was about of breath, each inhale a halting gasp when he realized he needed to stop.</p><p>“I need a breather,” he managed to breathe out to Patrick, one hand grasping at the post office box on the corner of the sidewalk they’d just stepped onto.</p><p>“Really, David?” He could hear Patrick say, the words faint over the ringing in his ears, but he could hear the annoyance in Patrick’s voice. “We’ve barely walked for ten minutes. You can’t be this out of shape.”</p><p>But David couldn’t bring himself to respond, the world spinning around him and his vision tunneling until he felt the scarily familiar feeling of gravity reaching up to claw him down, the fog settling into his brain as everything fuzzed out to black.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“…avid?”</p><p> </p><p>“…the corner of Maple and….”</p><p> </p><p>“…don’t know, he just went…”</p><p> </p><p>“…hey, David, can you…”</p><p> </p><p>“…help is coming, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“David?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, that’s it. Can you open your eyes?”</p><p> </p><p>David blinked open eyelids that felt like they weighed ten thousand pounds, squinting into the sunlight. He felt sweaty but cold at the same time, his body giving a violent shiver against his will.</p><p>“You’re okay, I’ve got you, you’re okay.”</p><p>Patrick?</p><p>The sky above him felt like it was spinning and David wondered if he’d accidentally taken acid this morning, but that felt improbable. He could make out Patrick’s face above him, a pinched look of worry in his eyes and David didn’t like that. He didn’t like when Patrick worried. Unless it was about him. Then it was kind of cute.</p><p>He could feel hands on his arms, rubbing a reassuring rhythm as his body gave another shudder and then everything seemed to snap back into place.</p><p>Oh. Patrick was worried about him. Because they’d been walking to work and then… what? David had fainted? How embarrassing.</p><p>“Hey, sweetheart? Help is coming, okay? Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”</p><p>David blinked, trying to process. He could feel the hard pavement of the sidewalk under him, could see the blue edge of the post office box beside him, could feel the unrelenting beat of the sun down on him, the clammy sweat gathered on his face, the ache in his lungs with every shuddered breath.</p><p>“Like a… a damsel in distress,” he managed to wheeze out and Patrick laughed above him, a tear slipping from his eye. Oh no. He’d made Patrick cry.</p><p>“Do you think you can sit up? It’s okay if you want to lay here longer.”</p><p>The words took a second to penetrate the fog still clouding David’s brain but he nodded, allowing Patrick to lift his shoulders as he gave a fumbling attempt to help, hands pushing clumsily against the pavement. Or at least he hoped they were, his limbs were still tingling too badly to really be of much use, and he wasn’t sure he even had full control over them. He was vaguely aware that this should freak him out more than it was, but for whatever reason he felt separated, like his thoughts and emotions had been pulled apart, and only the smallest sliver of them were making their way through.</p><p>Patrick propped David’s back up against his chest, his hands a solid anchor on David’s arms, but even the small change in position caused David’s head to spin and the world started to fade out around him, just as a series of hacking coughs took over him.</p><p>Time fuzzed again and all he was aware of were the intense, painful, full-body coughs that consumed him, paired with the hiccuping, gasping desperation of trying to breathe in real air.It felt like both of his lungs were trying to cough themselves out of his body, and he dug his fingernails into his chest in an attempt to keep them in because he <em>needed </em>them, he <em>needed</em> his lungs to breathe, and all he wanted in this moment was a clear breath of air, but the world was spinning and shaking around him and there was another ringing noise in his ears, but this one was different, louder and louder and, <em>fuck</em>, was he dying?</p><p>Shit. That sucked.</p><p>The world fuzzed to gray.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry this took so long. I'm still trying to get back in the swing of writing again, and this chapter was giving me lots of trouble. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but here's to throwing caution to the wind. </p><p>I hope everyone is staying safe out there &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick could count on one hand the number of times in his life he’d been truly scared.</p><p>There was that time in third grade, when he’d climbed to the top of a tree in his backyard and lost his footing, breaking his arm on the fall down. Then in high school, when his mom had had a breast cancer scare that turned out to be benign. That time he hadn’t been able to reach Rachel for two days and had been about to file a missing person report, before learning she’d just been on a bender in Toronto with some friends.</p><p>The moment of irrational fear before he came out to his parents, even with David’s reassurances that everything would be okay.</p><p>And now, as Patrick held David’s hand in the back of an ambulance as they sped towards Elmdale Hospital, he realized he’d never been more terrified in his life. David was in and out of consciousness, weakly batting at the hands of the paramedics as they tried to help him. One of the medics - Jessica, Patrick thought he remembered her name as - was reassuring him even as she put an oxygen mask over his face, clipped something to his finger and used a pair of scissors to cut his shirt open.</p><p>David would not be happy about that, Patrick thought. He loved that shirt.</p><p>“Sir? Patrick?”</p><p>Patrick blinked, turning to look at the other medic with what he was sure was a deer-in-the-headlights look.</p><p>“Your name is Patrick, right?” The medic, Jamal, asked. His eyes were kind. Patrick nodded, swallowing thickly.</p><p>“Okay Patrick, I know this is a lot, okay? We’re helping David, but I need some information from you.”</p><p>“O2 Sats are seventy-five percent,” Jessica said, cutting off Jamal. “BP is seventy-two over forty. I’m turning up his oxygen and going to start an IV.”</p><p>Jamal said something to Jessica in return, but Patrick wasn’t able to follow along. His attention was back on David’s face as his eyes fluttered, a low moan escaping his lips. Patrick squeezed his hand, his own visibly shaking.</p><p>“Patrick.” A light touch to his shoulder, Jamal’s kind voice drawing him back. “It’s really important for us to know if David has any medical conditions we need to be aware of.”</p><p>Patrick blinked, processing the question. Did he? “No,” he said, the word cracking and he cleared his throat. “No, nothing that I know of. I… I think he’s allergic to penicillin?”</p><p>Jamal nodded, typing something into the tablet on his lap. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”</p><p>Patrick licked his dry lips, eyes darting between David, now laying too still on the gurney, and Jessica, who had placed a tourniquet on David’s arm and was skillfully inserting a needle into his hand. Patrick looked quickly away. He never had been very good with blood.</p><p>“We were… My car wouldn’t start and we…” Patrick stopped, took a shaking breath through his nose, rubbed his free hand over his face. “We were arguing. And I made him walk to work with me, and it’s so hot out today and he wanted to wait for Alexis but I insisted and… <em>fuck. </em>This is all my fault.”</p><p>“Hey, it’s not your fault, okay? Now, what happened while you were walking?”</p><p>“He, um… he said he needed to stop and then he just… He turned so pale and the just collapsed. I couldn’t catch him in time and I think… he hit his head on the pavement.”</p><p>It felt so minimal, describing it in so few words. But there was no other way Patrick could explain it. He couldn’t explain the annoyance he’d felt when David first stopped, how he thought David was just being overly dramatic and he hadn’t even turned around until he’d heard David run into the post office box. How all the blood had rushed out of David’s face, his skin turning a sickly shade of white, his eyes rolling back as his body just <em>crumpled</em>.</p><p>He couldn’t explain the way his stomach had dropped, adrenaline pulsing through him as he fell to his knees beside David, his hands hovering over his body, not knowing what to do. He’d dropped his phone the first time he tried to call 911, his hands shaking too much to hold onto it and he’d set it beside him on speaker phone. The few CPR classes he’d taken had come back to him in fragmented pieces, and he’d searched for a pulse on David’s wrist while watching for the rise and fall of a breath. He’d nearly cried when he felt the too-fast beat of a pulse against his fingers; he did cry when David first blinked his eyes open, hazy and confused, but there.</p><p>“Does David have a history of fainting or losing consciousness?” Jamal asked, continuing to type into his tablet. Jessica was taping down the IV she’d inserted, hooking up a bag of something clear to it.</p><p>“Um, no… I don’t think,” Patrick started, stopped to think. “He’s been a bit off the last few weeks. I think he’s been having some dizzy spells, or something? He wouldn’t really talk about it and I just thought…”</p><p>He just thought what? Trusted that David, his fiancé, would tell him if something was really wrong?</p><p>“Is he on any medications?”</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “I mean, just a seasonal allergy med.”</p><p>Jamal continued typing. “Any history of drug use?”</p><p>That made Patrick pause. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, eyes darting to David. He was so pale, the oxygen mask taking up most of his face, eyelashes stark against his skin.</p><p>“In the past, I think… I don’t really know,” Patrick responded slowly, unwilling to betray David’s trust; he knew David had used in the past but he really didn’t know many of the details, and he hadn’t pushed, figuring David would tell him when he was ready. “It was a long time ago.”</p><p>Jamal, thankfully, didn’t press him on it, just continued to ask basic questions about David’s diet and exercise, anything that might have contributed to what was going on. Patrick felt like his answers were useless and frustration coiled up within him. He was David’s fiancé, and he couldn’t give them anything useful other than a bunch of <em>I don’t know</em>’s. He felt like he was just taking up space in this ambulance, like he didn’t deserve to be there unless he could help somehow.</p><p>Patrick had always been a logical thinker; someone who liked math problems because he could always figure outthe solution. He was good with numbers, great with the business, a master at budgets and number crunching. He prided himself on being level headed. He’d trained himself to think before he reacted, to not let his emotions guide his actions, but instead to examine everything from a logical point of view.</p><p>This had not equipped him to deal with a situation like the one he was in, where his emotions were frayed, pulled taught like a rope about to snap. A situation where there was no math problem to be solved, no answers he could give. Where all he could do is wait, and watch, and hope everyone else around him knew what they were doing.</p><p>He pressed his fists into his eyes, felt the pressure as sparks dotted his vision.</p><p>This couldn’t be happening.</p><p>“We’re nearly there.” A comforting weight on his shoulder and Patrick dropped his hands, blinked back the lingering starbursts in his eyes. David was moving, his hand batting at the oxygen mask without much strength behind it, his eyes still closed.</p><p>“Hey,” Patrick said, voice low and quiet. He took David’s hand back into his own, guided it away from the mask and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”</p><p>He really hoped that wasn’t lie.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Elmdale General was a whirlwind. Patrick felt a bit like a rag doll being guided from place to place as doctors and nurses examined David, clipping wires and leads to his chest and fingers, changing out the oxygen mask for a tube under his nose, listening to his bare chest with stethoscopes. Patrick wished he could pull a blanket over David, knowing how much David would hate to have his body on display like this if he had a choice. He settled for simply holding David’s hand when he wasn’t ushered to the side by someone needing to examine him.</p><p>Again and again he fielded the same questions that he answered in the ambulance, telling the limited amount of David’s medical history that he knew, and recounting what happened over and over again until it rolled off his tongue in the spark notes version of what actually happened.</p><p>No one seemed to be able to give him any answers, only telling him that David’s blood pressure was very low and he wasn’t getting as much oxygen as he needed into his blood. Everything else seemed to have to wait until they had the results from a few more tests that needed to happen.</p><p>By noon things had quieted for a moment, the click-clack of the emergency room nurse typing into a computer the only sound, when Patrick realized he hadn’t called anyone in David’s family. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of calling Mr. or Mrs. Rose and telling them that their son was in the hospital, and he decided Alexis was the safer bet. While she excelled at overreacting, she was at least unlikely to scream and lose her head on the phone.</p><p>The nurse kindly asked Patrick to make his phone call in the lobby, and it was physically painful to tear himself away from David, even for a moment. He left with a kiss to David’s forehead, noting his skin was still clammy and cold with sweat. David stirred slightly under the kiss, but showed no signs of actually waking, and Patrick whispered his promises to return soon.</p><p>His decision on which Rose to call proved to be the right choice. Alexis initially was her same, annoying self, but quickly caught on to the seriousness of the situation with only a small amount of panicking. After getting as much information out of Patrick as she could - which admittedly wasn’t much - she promised she would tell their parents, and they would be there as soon as they could.</p><p>When Patrick returned to David’s room, he was both delighted and surprised to see David awake and looking around the room with a tired, blinking gaze. The nurse must have left when Patrick went to make his phone call, so there was no one else to hear the very embarrassing noise of relief that escaped Patrick’s throat.</p><p>“How many people do you think have died in this bed?” David asked, his voice quiet and rough, absent of the normal sarcastic weight that it usually had. Patrick made a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a sob, a smile pulling at his lips while his eyes pricked with tears.</p><p>“I don’t know if you want me to answer that.” Patrick couldn’t keep the wobble out of his voice when he answered, pulling up a chair beside David’s bed and taking his hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Like it’s 2002 and I’ve taken too much E at Britney’s Christmas party.”</p><p>Patrick laughed, he couldn’t help it. His nerves were too frayed at this point to hold anything in. He felt giddy at seeing David awake, but anxiety and fear still weighed heavily inside him, quickly drawing him back down.</p><p>“What happened?” David asked. “Care to explain why I feel like the physical embodiment of a hangover?” He drew in a shaky breath, looking down at himself like he was expecting to see something visibly wrong. “Um, Patrick? Where’s my shirt?”</p><p>“David, they had to cut your shirt off,” Patrick said slowly, bracing himself for the inevitable overreaction that was coming.</p><p>David’s eyes widened, horrified. Yup, there it was.</p><p>“But that was a Rick Owens!” His hands rose to his chest, fingers tangling in the EKG leads.</p><p>Patrick pressed a hand to David’s, preventing him from pulling off the leads. His other hand reached to the end of the bed and pulled up the stiff, over-starched blanket, covering David’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it would give David some protection from feeling so exposed, like polyester armor.</p><p>“I don’t know how much you remember, but you collapsed on our walk to work this morning. You were really out of it, I had to call an ambulance,” Patrick said gently, trying to draw attention away from the loss of David’s precious shirt.</p><p>“Ew, I fainted? No, there’s no way I would…” David trailed off at the look on Patrick’s face. “Wait… why were we walking to work?”</p><p>“You don’t remember?” Patrick asked, worried. “My car wouldn’t start and we were… we were late getting to the store. So we decided to walk.” <em>I decided to make us walk</em>, the guilt monster in Patrick’s gut corrected him.</p><p>David blinked, slow and heavy. Some of the color had returned to his face, but it was still far more pale than his normal shade.</p><p>“I don’t remember,” David shook his head, obviously frustrated. “Why did that happened?”</p><p>“I guess, um, your blood pressure was really low and you weren’t getting enough oxygen. They’re still doing tests to figure out why.”</p><p>Patrick paused, looking at David earnestly, unable to hold it in anymore.</p><p>“David, I’m…” His voice cracked, the tears he’d been holding back hot on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. You didn’t want to walk and I practically forced you to.”</p><p>The lump in his throat grew exponentially and Patrick stopped abruptly, trying to keep composure.</p><p>“Oh, Patrick,” David’s voice was soft, his hand warm in Patrick’s, thumb tracing a gentle rhythm on Patrick’s skin. “I never want to walk anywhere. That hardly makes it your fault.”</p><p>Patrick nodded dumbly, still unable to speak. He squeezed his eyes closed against the wave of emotion washing through him, everything that had been building since this morning released as the dam broke. A sob shook his frame, and an embarrassing hiccuping noise escaped, tears dripping onto the collar of his shirt.</p><p>He felt wrecked, rung out, like an old dirty rag, useless and threadbare. The exact opposite of what David needed. He wished Alexis was here, or Stevie, or hell, even Moira and Johnny. Any one of them would be better equipped for this. They would at least be able to comfort David, unlike Patrick, falling apart with only a few words.</p><p>A gentle kiss grazed his knuckles and Patrick cracked his eyes open enough to see David watching him, a sad smile on his lips.</p><p>“I’m sorry I worried you,” David said, brushing a kiss to Patrick’s knuckles again.</p><p>It wasn’t enough and Patrick leaned forward with more force than he meant to have, pressing his lips to David’s. David returned the kiss, soft and sweet, the nerves boiling inside of Patrick settling to a low simmer.</p><p>“I love you,” Patrick whispered when he pulled away.</p><p>“I love you too, silly,” David replied, voice rough. His eyes looked glassy, face an unhealthy shade of gray.</p><p>“Now, as long as you’re keeping watch, I think I might close my eyes.”</p><p>Patrick could see the exhaustion in his face, the way his voice had become breathy and high.</p><p>“Of course,” Patrick said, pressing his palm to David’s cheek, feeling the scratch of stubble under his fingers. “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>“Mmm,” David hummed, eyes already closed. “Don’t let them cut off anymore of my clothes please.”</p><p>Patrick gave a choked laugh.</p><p>“I won’t David, I promise.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone, sorry this took so long. I moved and suffered a severe lack of confidence in my writing ability. But here I am, trying again.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">David would be the first to admit that he liked attention. Most of the time. Selective attention. He’d never turn down a compliment, someone commenting on his clothes, his shoes, his hair. He felt a giddy thrill when he was recognized for something he’d worked hard to achieve. When his gallery had a successful show, or after his store opened when he beamed at Patrick amid the hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back.</p><p class="p1">It made him feel good, successful, wanted. When Patrick told him how beautiful he was during sex, when Alexis secretly - or not so secretly - stole one of his sweaters because she liked his fashion sense, or when Stevie laughed at one of his jokes.</p><p class="p1">But this attention, sitting up in his hospital bed, his family loud and stressful around him, he hated. For one, he felt like shit. His head was pounding and his heart alternated between racing and skipping beats in a way that made him feel on the verge of a panic attack. He was nauseous enough he felt like he might throw up at any minute, and a deep exhaustion had settled into his bones, weighing him down onto the bed.</p><p class="p1">He felt horrible, and his family was driving him crazy. Moira was pacing the room, loudly remarking on everything from the style designs of hospital artwork, to the over-waxed floors, to the color of scrubs the nurses were wearing. Alexis was googling all of his symptoms and loudly remarking on what might be going on - “oooh, a brain tumor David” - while Johnny tried to logically reassure everyone that the doctors knew exactly what they were doing and he was sure they’d have an answer soon.</p><p class="p1">Even Patrick was too much for David right now, staring at him with his kicked-puppy face, nervously chewing on his lips, and really? How hard had David worked to break him of that habit the first time? Now he’d have to make a point of re-ordering Betty’s extra-moisturizing beeswax lip salve, and that wasn’t cheap.</p><p class="p1">And on top of that, he was holding David’s hand like a life-line, tight enough that David was losing sensation to the ends of his fingers. Actually, now that David thought about it, the fingers on the hand not being held were tingling with the same intensity. He chose the very successful tactic of denial to ignore this fact.</p><p class="p1">David had just closed his eyes, wondering if he could feign sleep and everyone would just go away and let him rest when the door to his room opened with a soft click. He blinked reluctantly, spotting a small-yet-commanding Asian woman in a white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck.</p><p class="p1">“Hello everyone,” she greeted the room before turning toward the bed. “You must be David. I’m Doctor Sylvia Nguyen, one of the cardiology attendings here.”</p><p class="p1">“Doctor, please tell us, what has befallen my eldest son?” Moira asked as soon as the doctor finished speaking, in the dramatic fashion David was so used to.</p><p class="p1">“I’m your only son,” David said, mostly to avoid addressing the doctor directly. Dr. Nguyen looked at Moira curiously, but without any disdain or annoyance.</p><p class="p1">“David, would you like some privacy for this discussion?” Dr. Nguyen asked and David almost laughed at the idea of trying to force his family out of the room. Indeed, his father’s eyebrows had risen nearly to his hairline and Moira’s expression was aghast at the suggestion. Only Patrick and Alexis looked like they would be willing to leave if David asked, albeit reluctantly.</p><p class="p1">David shook his head. “No, they can stay.”</p><p class="p1">Dr. Nguyen looked at him seriously for a moment before seeming to accept his answer as genuine. She motioned to the three Roses who were awkwardly standing about the room.</p><p class="p1">“Please then, take a seat. I have a few things I need to discuss.”</p><p class="p1">Her face was kind, but there was a tightness to her lips that David knew he couldn’t associate with any good news.</p><p class="p1">The Roses quietly complied, Alexis sitting at the end of David’s bed, Johnny and Moira perching on the small couch tucked against the wall. Patrick sat up taller, his gaze alternating worriedly between the doctor and David.</p><p class="p1">Dr. Nguyen pulled up a small chair beside David’s bed, resting her elbows on her knees as she looked at him.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve been going over your scans and the results from the tests and labs we’ve gotten from you. I’ve consulted with several of my colleagues and a few doctors in Toronto, and we’ve come to the conclusion that you have a very advanced case of what we call hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”</p><p class="p1">A part of David appreciated her being so direct - he hated small talk and the beating around the bush that tended to happen with serious conversations - but another part of him was screaming that he didn’t want to hear this, he needed to get up and run, do anything to avoid what she was saying.</p><p class="p1">He didn’t, instead just stared at he and tried not to hyperventilate.</p><p class="p1">“Basically,” the doctor continued, he eyes not leaving David’s gaze, “the muscle in your heart around your left ventricle has grown very thick and stiff, so your heart isn’t able to pump the blood it needs out to your body. This would explain all the dizziness and shortness of breath you’ve been experiencing lately. Unfortunately, you also have some pretty serious damage to one of the valves in you heart as well, which places even more strain on your heart muscle, and is causing your blood to back up into the vasculature of your lungs.”</p><p class="p1">She paused, probably to allow David and co. to absorb the information that she was saying, but the words were muddling into David’s brain like thick molasses. Nothing she said seemed to make any sense.</p><p class="p1">“What does that mean?” Patrick, sweet Patrick, asked, saving David from having to respond.</p><p class="p1">Dr. Nguyen looked around the room, a genuinely empathetic look in her eyes. “It means David is in pretty severe heart failure.”</p><p class="p1">The room was quiet, only the sound of David’s ragged breathing audible. Heart failure? It didn’t make any sense. David was young, only in his mid-thirties. He hadn’t lived long enough for his heart to fail.</p><p class="p1">“How?” David asked, his voice rough. Patrick squeezed his hand.</p><p class="p1">“Cardiomyopathy is commonly a congenital heart defect. Most people don’t even realize they have it until they’re older. It can be genetic or happen for reasons we don’t really understand yet,” she explained. “As for your heart valve, I need to ask you a personal question.”</p><p class="p1">She paused and waited until David nodded to continue.</p><p class="p1">“The type of mitral valve damage I’m seeing in your heart is commonly associated with heavy cocaine abuse. I know upon admission, your partner disclosed you might have a history of drug use, but it’s important for us to know if that’s true, and if it’s still a current issue.”</p><p class="p1">David could feel the tension in the room so thick he thought he might be able to grab onto it. He knew he should be embarrassed, or ashamed, or <em>something</em> about addressing this in front of his family - in front of Patrick - but truthfully, he just didn’t have the energy to care. It’s not like his family didn’t already know, and even Patrick seemed aware enough to mention it to his doctors.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not an issue anymore,” David answered with a shrug. Beside him Patrick shifted, his posture decidedly uncomfortable ever since the doctor had brought him up.</p><p class="p1">“But it was?” Dr. Nguyen asked. “I’m not here to judge you David, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">David could tell she was being truthful, there was something about the way she looked at him, the tone of her voice, that put him at ease. He nodded.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, it was the art scene in New York and I was in my twenties. Of course I used. Everybody did.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you for being honest,” Dr. Nguyen said. “Unfortunately, this all adds up to some pretty significant heart failure.”</p><p class="p1">There was a beat of heavy silence, the information weighing down the room before Patrick spoke. “But you can treat it right?”</p><p class="p1">David didn’t dare turn to look at him out of fear of what he might see on his fiancé’s face, and what Patrick would see in his.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, there’s got to be some kind of, like, medication or something he could take?” Alexis helpfully chimed in.</p><p class="p1">“There are some medications that might help with some symptoms, but I’m afraid at this stage, surgical intervention may be the only option. We’ve already been in contact with some respected heart surgeons in Toronto who will be able to come up with a plan for the next steps.”</p><p class="p1">The conversation continued, but David found himself tuning it out, almost like his body had gone offline, his brain no longer able to absorb and react to any new information.</p><p class="p1">He wanted desperately to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep, but everyone kept staring at him, watching and waiting for… for what? For him to start screaming or crying or overreacting? That was a fair assumption, David supposed, based historically on how he took major news.</p><p class="p1">But no one could prepare for how they would react to something like this. It was… inconceivable. While David knew he had a history of poor decisions, and yeah, sometimes he ate his feelings, and there was the heavy, chronic drug use of his twenties, but that was all in the past. He’d been working so hard on turning his life around, on making better decisions. Hell, he ate a <em>salad</em> for lunch yesterday, and he was in the first healthy, non-toxic relationship he’d ever had. He had friends and a family that he fought with at least seventy percent less than he used to. He was finally at a point where he could let himself be happy. Truly happy, not the drug-high, sex-fueled euphoria of his twenties that he thought counted. Real, honest-to-god happiness.</p><p class="p1">So of course, it only figured something like this would happen.</p><p class="p1">A hand rested gently on his arm, and David opened his eyes to Dr. Nguyen’s kind ones.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll leave you and your family to process the news. We’ll need to keep you here for observation for at least a few days while make sure the medication I’ve prescribed is working. We can come up with a plan of treatment options once you’ve rested and are feeling better.”</p><p class="p1">David nodded slowly. “Thank you, Doctor.” His voice cracked in the middle and Patrick was quick to grab his water off his bedside table, but David waved him away.</p><p class="p1">Dr. Nguyen smiled softly at David, glancing around at the rest of his family.</p><p class="p1">“Please write down any questions you have, and I’ll come by later to address them. Get some rest.”</p><p class="p1">With that she left, Johnny profusely thanking her, a dazed look on his face. A look echoed by everyone in the room as silence descended, like a weighted blanket muffling all the noise around them.</p><p class="p1">“Um, well that was a lot,” Alexis said, breaking the quiet far too soon for David’s liking. “None of that came up in my Google search.”</p><p class="p1">“Alexis,” Johnny’s voice came out as a warning. “Not now.”</p><p class="p1">“What? I’m just saying. How can we be sure what she was saying was right? Doctor’s misdiagnose patient’s all the time.”</p><p class="p1">“Alexis, that’s not helping.”</p><p class="p1">“Uggghhhh, Dad!” Alexis groaned. “I’m just trying to help.”</p><p class="p1">Moira let out a loud wail, frantically digging through her bag.</p><p class="p1">“My pills! I didn’t bring my pills,” Moira keened, turning her handbag upside down so everything clattered onto the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Moira…” Johnny said, exasperated. “I’m sure they’re back at the hotel.”</p><p class="p1">“I need them now!” Moira fell to her knees, digging through the pile evacuated from her purse. “I’ve just been told my only son is on death’s door, how am I supposed to process this without pharmaceutical assistance?”</p><p class="p1">“Mom, you’re being dramatic,” Alexis said with an eye roll, sliding off the chair to help put everything back in Moira’s bag.</p><p class="p1">David tuned them out, his gaze sliding unfocused over the mess of his family to Patrick, who was still clutching his hand harder than necessary, eyes shining with tears.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Patrick said softly, almost inaudible over the racket the Rose family was causing. “You’re going to be okay.”</p><p class="p1">A tear made an escape from Patrick’s eye down his cheek. David wondered if her should be crying, if there was something wrong with him making him feel so numb, like all his inside had been removed and replaced with cotton.</p><p class="p1">Instead of responding, David wriggled his hand free of Patrick’s, rolled over, and pulled the covers over his head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all of your love on the last chapter. Stay safe out there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The silence in the car was uncomfortable, stifling. David was slumped in the passenger seat, his head pressed against the glass, eyes glazed as the surroundings passed by in a blur. His fingers worried at the plastic hospital bracelet around his wrist, causing it to rub against the tape from where the nurse had removed his IV, the hairs under the bandage tugging painfully.</p>
<p class="p1">Despite the pinch he doesn’t stop, instead moving to slowly rip at the tape, the pain a distraction from the world around him, the thoughts that won’t stop running through his head.</p>
<p class="p1">“Ew, David, leave that alone,” Alexis’s voice was shrill from the driver’s seat. “You’ll make yourself bleed everywhere.”</p>
<p class="p1">David ignored her, his head rocking slightly against the window as they hit a pothole. His fingers continued to work at the tape, slowly peeling it up hair by hair.</p>
<p class="p1">“Ugh, Patrick, tell him to stop. It’s seriously grossing me out.”</p>
<p class="p1">David could hear Patrick shift from where he sat in the backseat, a hand coming to rest on David’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze.</p>
<p class="p1">“David, why don’t you leave the bandage until we get home?” Patrick asked in a soft voice, as if David was a small child who needed coddling.</p>
<p class="p1">David gritted his teeth against the spike of pain as he ripped the bandage off in one quick motion, before dropping it onto the floor of the passenger side.</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh my god, David, that is so gross,” Alexis said, the car swerving slightly as she turned to look at David with disgust.</p>
<p class="p1">A heavy sigh from the backseat. “Alexis, just focus on the road.”</p>
<p class="p1">Alexis grumbled a disgruntled <em>fine.</em> David felt Patrick’s hand leave his shoulder, a heavy weight left in its absence. David closed his eyes, focusing the stinging in his hand, the vibrations of the car flying over the pavement.</p>
<p class="p1">It had been three days since David had been admitted to the hospital. Three days of tests and blood draws, poking and prodding and serious conversations David didn’t have the energy for.</p>
<p class="p1">Three long, hellish days until Dr. Nguyen allowed him to be discharge, with an endless list of instructions that Patrick had clung to like a life line. No one had really wanted him to discharge, but David had remained obstinate and uncooperative, until the doctor had agreed, so long as he stuck to his frequent follow up appointments and diligently kept up with his new medication and activity restrictions. He had a follow up with Dr. Nguyen in two days, and she’d made appointments for him in Toronto in two weeks, where he’d sit down the the so-called ‘expert’ heart surgeons and come up with a plan.</p>
<p class="p1">David didn’t want to agree to any of it, but it was the only way to get himself out of his stifling hospital room, with the constant monitor beeping and the pungent smell of antiseptic everywhere. Most of the information had flown right over his head, but Patrick had sat next to him nodding fervently, asking at least a dozen questions while David had let his attention fade out. Instead he’d focused on each breath; the feel of air filling his lungs, the ache in his ribs as he exhaled.</p>
<p class="p1">Another breath.</p>
<p class="p1">And another.</p>
<p class="p1">Breathing.</p>
<p class="p1">In.</p>
<p class="p1">Out.</p>
<p class="p1">In.</p>
<p class="p1">Out.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“David?”</p>
<p class="p1">His eyes blinked open, gaze sliding over to Alexis’s concerned one. Her lips were pursed together in the the thin line that always betrayed her nervousness, but she pulled a corner up into a small smile when David’s eyes met hers.</p>
<p class="p1">“You okay?” Her voice had a rare undercurrent of actual concern.</p>
<p class="p1">“Peachy,” David responded, thick with sarcasm. Alexis’s attention had turned back to the road, but David could tell in the pinch of her face that she didn’t believe him.</p>
<p class="p1">“I asked if you wanted me to take you to Patrick’s or the motel, but you went all spacey over there.”</p>
<p class="p1">David didn’t even have to think about it. “Patrick’s.”</p>
<p class="p1">Patrick shifted in the backseat, cleared his throat.</p>
<p class="p1">“Um, I still don’t have my car fixed. Bob is going to pick it up tomorrow. I just… with everything the last few days I forgot to call him until today.” Patrick sounded hesitant.</p>
<p class="p1">“And?” David asked, unsure where he was going with this. All he wanted was a bed and a pillow, and Patrick wrapped around him, the comforting smell of his Irish Springs soap and the vanilla oat milk shampoo that David had finally convinced him to use.</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s just that if something happens, I won’t be able to get you anywhere. What if…” Patrick trailed off for a moment. “Maybe you should stay at the motel? Alexis will be there with the car and she can drive you if you need.”</p>
<p class="p1">David could tell this pained Patrick to say, but frankly he didn’t care. The motel was the last place he wanted to go, with its tiny, rickety bed, the mildewing bathroom, the thin walls that hid nothing of what was happening in the other rooms.</p>
<p class="p1">“That’s not going to happen though,” David replied obstinately.</p>
<p class="p1">“I just think it would be better to be safe,” Patrick said, voice soft.</p>
<p class="p1">“Um,” Alexis started, worrying her bottom lip. “I was going to go to Ted’s tonight, actually.”</p>
<p class="p1">David closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath.</p>
<p class="p1">Exhale.</p>
<p class="p1">“Great. I’ll be fine on my own.” His voice was sharp and uncaring, but his stomach ached with the rejection. First Patrick, then Alexis.</p>
<p class="p1">“I can text him to cancel!” Alexis said quickly. “We’ll just do brunch instead. Or why doesn’t Patrick drop me off and he can keep the car?”</p>
<p class="p1">Her voice was too perky, Patrick’s response of “that’s a great idea!” too forced. It made something clench inside David, an unexpected hurt and anger firing inside him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Just take me to the hotel,” he snapped as the foreverinappropriate Schitt’s Creek came into view.</p>
<p class="p1">“David…”</p>
<p class="p1">“Just stop.” David cut Patrick off sharply before he could finish. A warm hand from the backseat came to rest on David’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off, sitting forward stiffly. David swallowed against the hot press of tears as Schitt’s Creek enveloped them and he felt more alone and hopeless than he’d felt in a long time.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">-</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The sun was setting, a long ray of golden light streaming through the crack in the curtains, hitting David right in the face, causing him to see red behind his closed lids. He scrunched his face in annoyance and pulled the covers over his head, slightly disappointed no one was there to see his display of dramatics. It did no good to be outwardly annoyed when no one could be on the receiving end.</p>
<p class="p1">Alexis had left after David had basically forced her out, snapping at her with a force beyond their usual bickering. She had bolted when Ted had pulled in to pick her up, huffing out an equally hurt goodbye as she slammed the door behind her. David had pointedly ignored the guilt twisting his stomach as he heard Ted drive her away on his motorcycle - and <em>god</em>, who even rides a motorcycle anymore?</p>
<p class="p1">His parents were in the room next door, so it wasn’t like he had been completely abandoned, but aside from the quick opening of the adjoining door, probably his dad checking for proof of life, David hadn’t heard anything from them aside from muffled bickering through the wall. He’d thought he could make out his name a few times, but eventually he stopped trying to listen and instead continued to wallow in his own misery.</p>
<p class="p1">He pulled the blanket tighter over his head, wondering if he should just get up and close the blinds to fully embrace the darkness both inside and outside of his soul, when he heard someone rattling with the lock to his room.</p>
<p class="p1">“Go away!” He shouted from under the covers as the door creaked open, soft footsteps on the carpet, a weight on the end of his bed.</p>
<p class="p1">“Technically I own the place, so I can go wherever I want.”</p>
<p class="p1">The covers pulled back to Stevie’s unamused face looking at him with raised eyebrows.</p>
<p class="p1">“Yes, but I <em>live</em> here, does that mean nothing?”</p>
<p class="p1">Stevie pretended to consider it. “Nope.” She held up her phone, displaying a screen with a long line of blue text bubbles. “Especially not when I’m getting sad puppy texts from your fiancé.”</p>
<p class="p1">David blinked. “So?”</p>
<p class="p1">Stevie whacked David’s knee with her hand.</p>
<p class="p1">“So? He sent me in here to make sure you were still alive.” Something pinched in her face when she said that, an uncharacteristic look of sincerity. “I missed you by the way.”</p>
<p class="p1">The guilt David had been ignoring rose into his throat, sour and unwelcome.</p>
<p class="p1">“It was only three days.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I know. I’ve become disgustingly dependent on you for entertainment.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m flattered.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Don’t be. I’m writing it all down for my memoir <em>Surviving the Roses. </em>It’s going to be a best seller.” Stevie smiled wryly, her fingers tapping a rhythm on David’s leg. David pulled at a loose thread on his blanket.</p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t know that I’ll be giving you much entertainment anytime soon.”</p>
<p class="p1">Stevie averted eye contact, her gaze dropping down to what was probably a stain on the ugly carpet.</p>
<p class="p1">“Patrick filled me in. David, I’m…” she trailed off, biting her lip, blinking suspiciously quickly.</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” David tried to reassure, feeling slightly hollow as he said it. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do here. Was he supposed to comfort Stevie when it was his heart that was failing? Was he supposed to act normal when it felt like his whole life was collapsing around him? Or was he supposed to break down and sob dramatically, just like Stevie probably expected?</p>
<p class="p1">He didn’t know, he just felt numb, like nothing really seemed real, like the words were just coming out of him automatically. Stevie seemed similarly unbalanced, her lips pursing to the side for a moment as she looked up to the ceiling and drew in a deep breath before turning back to David.</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, your sad little boyfriend sent me over here to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to take your evening meds.”</p>
<p class="p1">David had, indeed, forgotten to take his evening meds.</p>
<p class="p1">“I was just about to when you got here,” he said petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.</p>
<p class="p1">“Uh huh,” Stevie nodded, a true smile on her lips this time. “And where might they be?”</p>
<p class="p1">David groaned, sitting up and throwing the blankets off of him.</p>
<p class="p1">“In the bathroom I think,” he said, forcing himself to stand up. The world fuzzed to gray, the familiar ringing in his ears as his heart fought to pump the blood it needed against the sudden change in gravity. He reached a hand blindly for the bedside table, a crash as something clattered to the floor.</p>
<p class="p1">“Woah,” he could make out Stevie’s startled voice, the stabilizing weight of her hands on his arm as the world came back into focus. “You good?”</p>
<p class="p1">David blinked the linger spots from his eyes, shook out his hands, trying to get rid of the pins and needles that always seemed to linger after these episodes.</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah.” David’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, ashamed Stevie had to witness that. “It’s just a thing, it happens sometimes.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Ooookay.” Stevie’s face was guarded, like she was trying hard not to show David she was rattled. “How about you sit here and I go get them for you?”</p>
<p class="p1">It wasn’t really a question, and David didn’t resist as Stevie guided him back to sit on the bed. He felt like a child who couldn’t do anything for himself, the same anger and annoyance rising in him, hot in his throat. His head thunked against the wall as he sat back, trying to get his emotions under control.</p>
<p class="p1">Stevie reappeared with David’s meds in her palm, a glass of water in her other hand.</p>
<p class="p1">“Here. Patrick texted me which ones you need so I wouldn’t accidentally kill you. He also told me they weren’t the fun kind of pills, which frankly I was insulted by.”</p>
<p class="p1">David accepted the handful of meds, far too many in his opinion, and choked them down with the lukewarm tap water.</p>
<p class="p1">“No, those would be in my mom’s room.”</p>
<p class="p1">Stevie took the empty glass of water back, set it gently on the bedside table, righting the lamp and hand cream that had fallen in David’s display of swooning. She lowered herself onto the bed beside David, pulling out her phone and tapping out a text.</p>
<p class="p1">“Just letting your boo know you’re alive and accounted for.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Never call him that again.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Fine. Bae? Booboo? Sugar plum?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I hate you.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Hate you more,” Stevie replied as she took David’s hand in her own, her head coming to rest on David’s shoulder. They sat in silence, the golden beam of sun slowly disappearing, darkness filling the room as neither of them bothered to turn on the light. Occasionally David could feel Stevie tapping out a text, but he didn’t ask, just let himself breathe in silence, her weight against him calming the storm inside him.</p>
<p class="p1">David hadn’t realized he’d started to drift off to sleep until he was awoken by the sound of the door opening, whispered voices around him. He blinked open bleary eyes as Stevie pulled away, the bed bouncing up before dipping back down as an even heavier weight settled in next to him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Patrick?” David whispered, squinting his eyes to see in the dim moonlight.</p>
<p class="p1">“Shh, you can go back to sleep,” Patrick said softly back. Gentle hands guided David’s shoulders down so he was curled up in bed, a relief to the crick in his neck that had been developing from sleeping at such an awkward angle. Fingers carded through his hair and David groaned at how delicious it felt.</p>
<p class="p1">“Thank you, Stevie.” More whispered voices, ones that David was only half aware of, sleeping creeping back in, heavy and enticing.</p>
<p class="p1">“Anytime, Brewer.” A creak of floorboards, a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Get some sleep, Booboo”</p>
<p class="p1">David mumbled something he felt vaguely resembled a <em>fuck you</em>, before nestling himself in closer to Patrick. A quiet laugh, the sound of the door opening and closing one last time. Patrick shifting beside him, sliding under the covers until David could feel his soft breath on his cheek, the warm weight of his arm over his shoulders.</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Patrick whispered, the sound of genuine regret in his voice. David shook his head, unable to even open his eyes as fatigue continued to take hold. A press of lips to his own, firm and full of love.</p>
<p class="p1">And sleep took over, David nestled warm and safe in Patrick’s arms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have no good excuse for why this took me so long, except that the world is in chaos and depression sucks. Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, it really means a lot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Patrick woke slowly, a warm weight nestled in his arms. He was just on the other side of uncomfortably hot, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, not just yet. Instead he blinked open blurry eyes, a smile pulling at his lips as David’s sleeping face came into view.</p><p class="p1">His mouth was open, just slightly, a soft snore puffing his lips with every breath. Patrick took in the way his face was completely relaxed, and despite the slightly too long stubble and pale hue to his skin, he could almost pretend that the last few days had never happened. That their lives hadn’t completely changed, that there would always now be a <em>before </em>and an <em>after</em>.</p><p class="p1">Patrick wiggled a hand free from where it was tangled in the sheets and reached out, tracing his thumb along the line of David’s jaw. David huffed but didn’t wake up. Patrick couldn’t stop smiling at how adorable his boyfriend - no, his<em> fiancé </em>because he <em>did that</em> - was, even as his bladder reminded him of how full it was.</p><p class="p1">Slowly, Patrick extracted himself from David and his far too small bed and made his way to the equally small bathroom. He peed and washed his hands, pausing as he dried them on the ragged and moth-eaten towel. It was strange to think of this as <em>home</em>, like David had been doing for the past few years. It was something that Patrick never really thought about, always taking David and his family’s situation at face value. They were just the quirky, eccentric family stuck in a bad situation. But it wasn’t just that, was it? This was their whole life now, this dingy motel was their only home, the kindness of the people around them the only thing they’ve been able to rely on.</p><p class="p1">And David, for all of his dramatics, never really complained. Sure, he moaned about Alexis, about his overbearing-yet-absent parents, about the town folks’ deplorable sense of fashion. He’d throw up his hands if his coffee order was made wrong, drop his head to the counter after dealing with a difficult customer, act like the world was ending if the lip balms or toilet plungers were in the wrong spots.</p><p class="p1">But genuine complaints about his situation, the realities of being forced from his home and everything he’d ever known, never really surfaced. He’d have every right to complain, Patrick thought, taking in the mildewed tiles, the leaking drip of water from the faucet.</p><p class="p1">This was the only home David had known for years, and all he’d ever done was make the best of it. The thought made something heavy sit in Patrick’s throat and he swallowed painfully around it. He splashed his face with cool water to clear his head and force himself to refocus, and grabbed the orange bottles of David’s medication and exited the bathroom.</p><p class="p1">David had rolled so there was really no room on the bed for Patrick, but Patrick made do, sitting gingerly on the few inches of space near the edge. David stirred at the movement, smacking his lips together before blinking an eyes open. His hair was sticking up at all angles and if there was a way for eyebrows to look disgruntled, Patrick thought David nailed it. In all, he looked adorable.</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck?” David croaked, rubbing a hand over his face.</p><p class="p1">“Good morning sunshine,” Patrick countered with a smile.</p><p class="p1">“God, morning people are the worst,” David grumbled. Patrick laughed, relieved David was back to his bantering self, and not the quiet, somber David of yesterday.</p><p class="p1">“But you’re so cute in the morning,” Patrick quipped, leaning in to give David a quick kiss, earning himself a glare. “You can go back to sleep, I just wanted you to take your meds.”</p><p class="p1">David sighed dramatically, pushing himself into a sitting position and blearily taking in the scene around him.</p><p class="p1">“Did you sleep here last night?” he asked, accepting the pills and water from Patrick.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I’m pretty sure my ass was hanging off the bed all night.”</p><p class="p1">David snorted, handing the water back to Patrick.</p><p class="p1">“Shoulda pushed Alexis’s over. I’m sure she did that the whole time I was gone, judging by the stench of her perfume on my pillow. And…” David paused, sniffing his sheets suspiciously. “Ted’s cologne? Not okay.”</p><p class="p1">“Not okay,” Patrick echoed, the smile on his lips fading as he took in the deep circles under David’s eyes, the way his hand shook just slightly as he brushed it through his hair. “David… I’m sorry about yesterday. I was just… I just wanted you to be safe and I wasn’t thinking about what you really <em>needed</em> and…”</p><p class="p1">“Shhh,” David shushed, holding a finger up to Patrick’s lips. “You’re here now. Although I won’t say no to apology pancakes.”</p><p class="p1">Patrick laughed, shaking his head. “I think I can work something out.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Mr. Rose ended up being only to eager to lend Patrick the family car so he could pick up pancakes at the café.Even though Patrick knew the pancakes would be subpar to the ones he could make with his mother’s recipe at his apartment, he didn’t want to leave David along for longer than necessary.</p><p class="p1">Bob had already sent him a text message indicating - from what Patrick could tell among all the autocorrect errors - that he had picked up Patrick’s car and it should be ready by the next morning. But Patrick had no plans to let David spend another night sleeping in the motel, not after the fiasco of last night. The guilt still burned hot inside him, and he knew he was famously bad at making decisions under stressful situations, despite how level-headed he could come across. Despite all appearances it was David who performed the best under pressure, even if it involved a lot of dramatic shouting and hair pulling.</p><p class="p1">Patrick pulled back into the parking lot of the motel, slightly soggy box of pancakes warming the seat beside him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, drawing in a deep breath to center himself before turning off the groaning engine and making his way back in the room.</p><p class="p1">Where he was greeted by pure chaos.</p><p class="p1">Moira was sobbing loudly on the bed beside David, her arms clutched around him in a way Patrick could only describe as smothering. Johnny was gesturing wildly, spouting off something about the power of positive thinking and staying together as a family, something Patrick would normally agree with if it wasn’t strung together in obvious panic. Alexis was by her bed dressed in her running clothes, trying to make herself heard over her father’s rambling and her mother’s sobbing.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, this isn’t helping anything,” Alexis shouted as Patrick stood stunned in the doorway. He’d only been gone 20 minutes at the most, how did things devolve this quickly? “You need to get Mom under control. David has enough to deal with right now, <em>god.”</em></p><p class="p1">Patrick agreed wholeheartedly, and felt a twinge of sympathy as David looked at him pleadingly over his mother’s mascara streaked face. Lipstick was smeared on his cheek in the same shade on Moira’s lips, and Patrick could tell Moira’s foundation had transferred onto the sleeve of his shirt, something what David would not be happy about later.</p><p class="p1">“You know your mother doesn’t handle grief well,” Johnny said, seemingly at a loss, and not for the first time Patrick wondered how this family managed to survive for this long.</p><p class="p1">“Grief?” David piped up, brows pulling together. “I’m not dead yet, sorry to disappoint.”</p><p class="p1">At this Moira gave an extra-loud wail, and for once Patrick couldn’t blame her, even in jest the big <em>D</em> word made his stomach give an unpleasant flip.</p><p class="p1">“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Alexis said, cutting off Johnny who was mid-chastising David for misinterpreting him, and threw her hands in the air. “Mom’s not grieving, she took a pill and now she can’t cope with her emotions. Well, guess what? Some of us actually have to do shit around here, right Patrick?”</p><p class="p1">All four sets of eyes turned to him and all moisture immediately evaporate from Patrick’s mouth. Moira’s head was tilted in confusion, like she just realized he was here, and Johnny had the sense to look slightly embarrassed that their dysfunctional family dynamics had been witnessed by someone else.</p><p class="p1">Patrick gave a nervous laugh. “I’m just here to bring David pancakes.” He held up the container as if it would explain everything.</p><p class="p1">“Well, that’s very kind of you Patrick,” Johnny said, looking from Patrick to his wife. “We, uh, we were just checking in on David, you know, to make sure he’d taken all his meds and everything, when Moira started feeling a little… emotional and…”</p><p class="p1">“No explanation needed,” Patrick attempt to reassure, putting up a hand to - politely - cut Johnny off. “All the necessary medications have been taken and accounted for.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny’s smile looked forced, his eyes darting in the way that Patrick was learning meant he was out of his comfort zone, his hands wringing together.</p><p class="p1">“Well that’s, really great, Pat,” he said, and Patrick winced internally at the nickname. “You always take such good care of our son and we… I’ve never… well…”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Ugh</em>, Dad this is so embarrassing,” David interjected at the same time Alexis groaned “Dad, just stop.”</p><p class="p1">Even Moira had quieted down some, though from the glassy look she was giving everyone, Patrick was pretty sure she wasn’t fully aware of what was going on.</p><p class="p1">“I’m always happy to take care of David,” Patrick said, humoring Johnny. “He is my fiancé.” He sent a quick wink to David, who bit his lip, obviously trying to hold back a smile.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, and we’re so happy you two…” And Johnny was cut off once again - and to be honest, Patrick was starting to feel a little bad for the guy - by David letting out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms above his head.</p><p class="p1">“I think I might lay down again,” David said slowly, looking between his mom and dad. “I’m just still so exhausted, you know, after collapsing and being in the hospital for <em>days.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“Right,” Johnny said with a nod. “You need rest. Well, you’re in good hands and we’ll be just other other side of the door if you need anything. Don’t hesitate.”</p><p class="p1">David smiled, just a small pull of his lips. “Thanks, Dad.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny gave a curt nod, seemingly at a loss before gesturing to Moira.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, let’s let David get some sleep.”</p><p class="p1">Moira left another messy smear on David’s cheek as she kissed him before standing up, wobbling on dangerously high heels before approaching Patrick, her hands reaching to wrap around his. Her grip was soft and her hands cool and Patrick honestly had no idea what to do as Moira stared earnestly into his eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you for breakfast, dear Patrick.”</p><p class="p1">And with that she took the container of pancakes from his hand before exiting the room with an intoxicated grace that Patrick had never witnessed before. Johnny left awkwardly after Moira, peeking his head in through to door at least three times before shutting it with a click.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my god,” David said, falling back against the pillows. “She took my pancakes.”</p><p class="p1">Patrick met Alexis’s wide eyed stare and something just unraveled inside him and he started laughing, deep laughs that reached all the way into his belly. Alexis joined in, snorting every few breaths in a way that was wholly uncharacteristic and somehow fitting. David was looking between them as Patrick wiped a tear from his eye, a look of disbelief on his face but a wide smile on his lips.</p><p class="p1">And soon all three were laughing, piled on David’s bed, and for a moment everything felt pretty okay.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">-</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Stevie ended up driving them back to Patrick’s place for pancakes, with the promise that she would stay within a ten minute distance just in case. And that Patrick saved at least four pancakes for as payment, to which Patrick readily agreed.</p><p class="p1">David visibly relaxed in Patrick’s apartment, his shoulders loosening, the lines on his face smoothing. He threw himself onto the couch with a satisfied groan, alternating between halfheartedly ranting about his parents and mumbling under his breath. Patrick nodded along to him as he whipped together some pancakes, thankful that he had all the ingredients necessary.</p><p class="p1">David moaned in delight when Patrick handed him a plate piled with a stack of pancakes, topped with fresh strawberries and far too much maple syrup. But it didn’t escape Patrick’s notice that despite David’s insistence that he really did feel okay, he only ate a pancake and a half before setting the plate on the coffee table in front of them, his eyes drooping tiredly. Patrick clearly remembered the last time he had made pancakes, almost three months ago now, when David had easily put away five with extra whip before loudly complaining how he was going to burst and chastising Patrick for letting him eat so much.</p><p class="p1">Patrick put his own unfinished plate down, appetite suddenly gone, as David settled in sleepily against his shoulder. A shiver wracked his body and Patrick pulled the soft, extra plush blanket he had gotten specifically before David had run his hands over it longingly in the store down over David’s shoulders.</p><p class="p1">David smiled, eyes blinking heavily up at Patrick.</p><p class="p1">“I think I just need to close my eyes, just for a minute,” David mumbled. “Don’t know why I’m so tired.”</p><p class="p1">Patrick knew, and pressed a kiss to the top of David’s head, even as he felt David relax against him, sleep claiming him faster and faster these days. David’s hair tickled against Patrick’s cheek but he didn’t care, just inhaled the sweet lavender and vanilla scent of him, and let the tears fall.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so sorry this took so long. Also I'm sorry it's a bummer of a chapter. I have a million excuses but blah blah blah depression isn't cute anymore, right? </p>
<p>I'll try my darndest to update faster next time. And with something a little happier. It's 2021 now right, so yay?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">David gave it a week until he showed up at the store unannounced. He’d had his follow up appointment with Dr. Nguyen a few days before, which hadn’t really tell him anything new and ended with Patrick chewing his lip so hard it bled. They’d bickered on the drive home, Patrick annoyed at David’s seemingly blasé attitude about his diagnosis, David arguing that worrying would do nothing except cause premature wrinkles.</p><p class="p1">But the truth was David <em>was </em>worried. He just had limited coping skills at the moment, <em>thank you very much</em>, to deal both with his own internal feeling and his family’s very external feelings. It was easy to brush it off - to ignore the palpitations in his chest, to blink back the haze that still crept over his vision when he stood too fast, to cover his swollen feet with thick socks.</p><p class="p1">It was just easier.</p><p class="p1">So, a week after he was discharged, David woke up at quarter to nine, a note from Patrick nestled against a banana and a protein bar on the table, telling him to take it easy and that Patrick would be home for lunch. David had just blinked at the note before throwing it in the trash, grabbing at the banana with far more force than necessary, steely determination growing inside him.</p><p class="p1">He brewed a cup of coffee at his normal strength - not the horribly bland decaf Patrick had been making for him - before dousing his face and meticulously going through his skin care routine. His skin was showing all the usual signs of stress - a dry patch between his eyebrows, a pimple making itself known on his chin, and the pores on his nose might as well have been craters. He shuddered, and set to work on his perfectly crafted appearance, the familiar steps helping to still the shake in his hands.</p><p class="p1">It took a good hour, but he had his skin shining and moisturized, his hair brush and styled to perfection, his body clad in the skirted pants and black sweater with stars that always made him feel confident, four gold rings circling his fingers. He nodded at his reflection in the mirror, satisfied, before settling on the next important task - bribing Stevie to drive him to the store.</p><p class="p1">Surprisingly, it only took the promise of two bottles of wine and some minor begging to get her to agree. David suspected she would have agreed even without the wine - she seemed suspiciously eager to see him - but the guilt that gnawed at him for putting her out wouldn’t let him take it back.</p><p class="p1">She arrived within the hour, a frown on her brow.</p><p class="p1">“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep that up,” David said, poking at her forehead after he got in the car. “I’m astonished you don’t already have any.”</p><p class="p1">“Asshole,” Stevie said, her eyes not leaving David’s face. “Are you sure you’re up to this? Why isn’t Patrick driving you?”</p><p class="p1">David pointedly ignored her stare. “It’s my store and I’ve been gone too long already.”</p><p class="p1">“Not what I asked,” Stevie grumbled under her breath but put the car into drive anyways. It was warm outside, the heatwave that started a few days ago still unrelenting, and David felt sweat prickle at his temples, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. David knew Stevie’s AC had been busted for weeks now, and even if it wasn’t, he was far too stubborn to ask for her to turn it on.</p><p class="p1">But of course Stevie’s disconcerting Spidey-sense must have pinged, because she rolled down David’s window without a word. The delicious breeze hit his face and he closed his eyes in delight, knowing the wind might mess up his hair, but not bringing himself to care.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks.” The word was barely a whisper, but a smile pulled at Stevie’s lips, her hand reaching out to give David’s knee a quick squeeze.</p><p class="p1">Before he knew it they were pulling up in front of the store and David could see Patrick through the glass window front, helping an elderly lady by the cheese fridge. He looked adorable, with that earnest look on his face as he listened to the customer, nodding his head along to whatever she was saying. Stevie’s car gave a loud cough as she put it in park and David could see Patrick turn to look out the window, frowning when he spotted them.</p><p class="p1">“That doesn’t look like he knows you’re coming,” Stevie said accusatorially, looking over at David as Patrick turned back to the customer,, his shoulders pinched higher than they were before.</p><p class="p1">“Well, thanks for the ride,” David said breezily, opening the door and quickly stepping out. The heat and change in gravity hit him like a sledge hammer and he fell back against the side of Stevie’s car as his vision grayed out, his ears ringing.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, you okay?” Stevie’s voice sounded miles away, but David could feel her hand on his arm through the pins and needles and he forced a nod, frantically trying to blink his vision back into focus.</p><p class="p1">“Peachy,” he breathed out when the world righted itself. He was pleased to see he’d stayed upright, and hopefully it had looked like a minor dizzy spell, something he could easily brush off. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”</p><p class="p1">“I believe I was promised some wine,” Stevie said, but the pinch in her brow told him that wasn’t the only reason. Whatever. He didn’t need the help, but if she was going to linger he wasn’t going to complain.</p><p class="p1">“What kind of taxi service demands payment in alcohol?” David asked as he pulled his sweater sleeves down, his arms suddenly prickling with goosebumps despite the heat, and turned to march to the store.</p><p class="p1">“Hey!” A playful swat at his shoulders. “I’m not your taxi service. Although, if the payment is more wine, I’m willing to make a business deal with you.”</p><p class="p1">“Right,” David responded with a chuckle as the bell on the door announced their entrance.</p><p class="p1">“Strictly business, of course,” Stevie said even as everyone in the store turned to look at them. Everyone being Patrick and the customer he was helping, and Alexis who was… painting her nails at the register?</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing?” David spat out at Alexis. “You’ll get polish on the oak!”</p><p class="p1">“Um, excuse me?” Alexis shot back. “What are you even doing here?”</p><p class="p1">Patrick looked torn, the customer - an elderly woman David didn’t recognize - still at his side and David knew his sense of professionalism wouldn’t allow him to question David in front of her, but he could see the tension on his face. It gave David a tiny spark of adrenaline; they clearly hadn’t thought he was well enough to come in today, but now look who was wrong.</p><p class="p1">“Hey David, why don’t you go to the back and I can meet you when I’m done helping Miss Sanchez,” Patrick said, a forced lightness to his voice.</p><p class="p1">“No, I think I’m good out here,” David said, a smile plastered to his face and Patrick just blinked at him before taking a breath and turning back to Miss Sanchez. Stevie’s eyebrows were almost up to her hairline, and Alexis’s lips were downturned in her <em>oh shit</em> expression as she slowly capped her bottle of nail polish.</p><p class="p1">David turned to take in the store; including the hospital stay it had been over a week since he’d been in, the longest he’d ever been away since it had opened. He was pleased to see things didn’t look too out of sorts, although there were some items that were very obviously not where they should be.</p><p class="p1">He ran his fingers along a row of body milks, straightening every bottle that was out of line, inspected the face wash and frowned at the less-aesthetically pleasing toothpaste put out in front of the bamboo toothbrushes instead of tucked behind like they should be. Miss Sanchez was taking her sweet time questioning Patrick about what she should get for her sister who had a severe gluten allergy so David took he opportunity to do some pointed rearranging and straightening of his products. Their products. Whatever.</p><p class="p1">He was just checking that the shipment of tea that had come in while he’d been gone had been properly labeled and displayed - and that there was no weed in this batch - when the tinkling of the bell announced Miss Sanchez departure.</p><p class="p1">“Watcha doing there, David?”</p><p class="p1">David could make out Patrick from the corner of his eye, arms folded over his chest, but he refused to meet his gaze.</p><p class="p1">“Inventory,” David answered lightly. Satisfied that the teas were all correct, he turned to the produce, eyeing the bin of locally grown apples. The apple in the front had an obvious bruise and David plucked it from the bin with distaste. From this angle he could see Stevie had moved to stand by Alexis and they were watching him with concern. David hated it.</p><p class="p1">“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” Patrick asked, his voice the stony pitch he adopted when he was upset but trying hard not to show it. “I thought we’d agreed you’d stay home today.”</p><p class="p1">David set the apple in the back of the bin, the bruise turned away. “I agreed to no such thing.”</p><p class="p1">He could hear Patrick sigh deeply, and part of him knew he was being obstinate, that he was asking for a fight they didn’t need to have, but a bigger part of him didn’t care. He felt antsy and anxious; a nervous energy thrummed under his skin and he didn’t know how to disperse it.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t do this, David,” Patrick said quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p><p class="p1">“Where’s the order from the Knight farm? It was supposed to be picked up two days ago.” David scanned the shelves for the preserves he had been overseeing the shipment of before his hospital stay.</p><p class="p1">“I arranged for it to be picked up next week,” Patrick responded, taking a step closer to David. “The Knights were happy to accommodate.”</p><p class="p1">“Thats… that’s not…” David floundered. “We have to honor our client contracts.”</p><p class="p1">“David.” Patrick placed a hand on David’s, stopping him from rearranging shelf of spices. “They were understanding. You don’t need to worry about all this right now.”</p><p class="p1">David’s eyes burned with an uncharacteristic - and frankly embarrassing - swell of emotion. He could hear Stevie whispering <em>I’m gonna go</em> to Alexis, the shuffling of her sneakers and the tiny bell above the door announcing her departure. Great, well one less person to see his fragile hold on sanity unwind.</p><p class="p1">“It’s my store.” The words came out in a choked whisper, almost reluctant.</p><p class="p1">“It’s <em>our</em> store,” Patrick countered. “And I’ve been taking very good care of it, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">David bit his bottom lip, looking around. Objectively, it did look good. Nothing too out of place, only a few staples missing or low on stock.</p><p class="p1">“The toothpaste was in the wrong spot. And that apple was bruised.”</p><p class="p1">Alexis gave an exaggerated groan. “<em>God David</em>. A thanks for keeping your store running would’ve been enough.”</p><p class="p1">A lump formed in David’s throat, so painful he could barely swallow around it, his face prickling with heat.</p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you leave us for a bit?” Patrick asked, barely audible over the sudden ringing in David’s ears. His vision tunneled and his heart was racing, his breath coming in hiccuping gasps and <em>good lord</em>, how embarrassing. But there was no stopping it, his grip on reality coming loose despite his desperate hold on the table in front of him and he was slipping, falling, spiraling.</p><p class="p1">Except he wasn’t, a heavy weight behind him, pressed against his back, wrapped around his chest. His breathing erratic and his head spun, his vision going in and out, bright sparks of light that he tried to press away with the palms of his hands. His coordination was off, his arms as clumsy as a stupid baby’s, and then held still, soft palms against his own.</p><p class="p1">“Shh, David.” A voice whispered in his ear, just audible over the damn ringing that wouldn’t go away. “Take a breath, okay? Deep breaths.”</p><p class="p1">David tried but the air caught on the lump in his throat, painfully jarring and he felt tears slip down his cheeks, and - ugh, so disgusting - snot dripping from his nose. But it was a passing concern as the panic set in because <em>he couldn’t breathe</em> and he was freaking out <em>thisisn’tadrilli’msuffocatingdrowningdying…</em></p><p class="p1">“…with me, okay?”</p><p class="p1">One hand on his face, the other leading his own hand to a solid chest, moving up and down with exaggerated breaths. Breaths David tried to copy, halting and painful at first, soon slowing into a more manageable rhythm.</p><p class="p1">“Good, just like that.”</p><p class="p1">The voice calm and steady, and David clung to it, his fingers curling into the soft fabric under his hand, holding tight, scared to let go.</p><p class="p1">“You’re doing great David, keep breathing just like that.”</p><p class="p1">It took a few more minutes - hours? years? centuries?- and more gentle encouragements before David could feel his tired heart slowing, his breathing evening into something that could be considered almost normal. He blinked as the world slowly came into focus around him and was surprised to see he was on the floor, packages of tea and herbs scattered on the floor around him.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Patrick’s voice, soft in his ear. David turned his head towards the voice, greeted by Patrick’s beautiful face, his eyelashes clumped together with tears, nose red.</p><p class="p1">“Why’re you crying?” David mumbled, feeling like he missed something. Patrick gave a weak laugh, and David still felt a bit woozy, like he wasn’t running on all cylinders. He was awkwardly wedged between Patricks legs he noted, his fist tightly gripping Patrick’s shirt, his fingers feeling like they’d turned to stone.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck,” Patrick half laughed, half squeaked and like a horror movie reveal, David began to realize what must have happened. His eyes darted around before he realized they were blessedly alone.</p><p class="p1">“Did I…” David started before trailing off, unable to put into words what he was feeling.</p><p class="p1">Patrick was silent a moment, those big, soulful eyes flickering around David’s face, reading every inch of him.</p><p class="p1">“Have a panic attack?” Patrick finished for him, and David realized yes, that’s probably exactly what happened. The anxious thrumming under his skin all day, building and building. The irritability, the desire to prove everyone wrong, to prove himself, to prove <em>to </em>himself.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” David murmured, embarrassment heating his cheeks. He felt drained, rung out like an old dirty sponge, far past its expiration date.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t…” Patrick started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. He drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring cutely. God, David figured he really was a mess if he really thought nostrils were cute. “Do you feel like you can make it into the back room?”</p><p class="p1">David nodded even though, no, he really didn’t. Patrick gently unwound David’s hand from the vice grip on his shirt, the fabric stretched beyond repair, and slowly helped David to his feet. He waited patiently while David found his footing, and they made their way to the back room behind the counter where David flopped onto the second hand couch Twyla had sold to them to use for their breaks. Patrick disappeared for a moment, returning with a glass of ice water, condensation already forming on the cup. David accepted the glass gratefully, the cool liquid blissful on his parched tongue. His stomach turned after a few sips, and he set the cup on the table beside the couch with a clumsy clunk, water sloshing over the side.</p><p class="p1">Patrick sank into the couch beside David and David gave in, leaning his weight against Patrick’s without a thought, relishing in the comforting heat of his fiancé. Patricks hand was on David’s thigh, stroking a comforting rhythm and David thought he could easily stay here forever, just like this.</p><p class="p1">Of course, life doesn’t work like that.</p><p class="p1">“We should talk.”</p><p class="p1">The words fell abruptly into the quiet of the room and David tensed, mind already racing to the memories of the countless times he’d heard that phrase in the past, usually followed by something that left him empty and alone.</p><p class="p1">“And?” David asked, sitting up stiffly. He knew it was harsh and uncalled before, but some reflexes were ingrained too deep to change.</p><p class="p1">“David,” Patrick shifted so he was turned towards David, the grip on his thigh tightening, though not painfully. His voice was soft, and David could see tears glistening in his eyes. <em>Shit. </em>“David, I love you, okay? I <em>love</em> you.”</p><p class="p1">David felt his heart clench, a flutter in his stomach.</p><p class="p1">“But you need to talk to me. I can’t…” Patrick paused, waiting until David turned to meet his gaze. “I know this is hard for you. And I know you… I know you’re not ready to talk about it yet and I don’t want to push you, and I’ve been trying to give you the space you need but I can’t…” Patrick’s voice wavered, broke, a tear slipping down his cheek that he angrily scrubbed away.</p><p class="p1">David reached forward, taking Patrick’s hand in his, knowing it wasn’t enough but he needed to do something. When Patrick spoke again his voice was tight, like every word was a fight.</p><p class="p1">“It’s so hard to see you like that, and to feel you pushing me away and I don’t know how to hold on tighter without suffocating you, and I just… I don’t want to fight you, David. I don’t want to fight with you when I don’t know…”</p><p class="p1">And then Patrick broke down, sobs racking through his body, face crumpling and all David could do was open his arms, draw Patrick into him and let him cry.</p><p class="p1">
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just realized I ended two chapters with Patrick crying. Oops. </p>
<p>Take care lovelies.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so sorry this took so long. Also I'm sorry it's a bummer of a chapter. I have a million excuses but blah blah blah depression isn't cute anymore, right? </p><p>I'll try my darndest to update faster next time. And with something a little happier. It's 2021 now right, so yay?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">David gave it a week until he showed up at the store unannounced. He’d had his follow up appointment with Dr. Nguyen a few days before, which hadn’t really tell him anything new and ended with Patrick chewing his lip so hard it bled. They’d bickered on the drive home, Patrick annoyed at David’s seemingly blasé attitude about his diagnosis, David arguing that worrying would do nothing except cause premature wrinkles.</p><p class="p1">But the truth was David <em>was </em>worried. He just had limited coping skills at the moment, <em>thank you very much</em>, to deal both with his own internal feeling and his family’s very external feelings. It was easy to brush it off - to ignore the palpitations in his chest, to blink back the haze that still crept over his vision when he stood too fast, to cover his swollen feet with thick socks.</p><p class="p1">It was just easier.</p><p class="p1">So, a week after he was discharged, David woke up at quarter to nine, a note from Patrick nestled against a banana and a protein bar on the table, telling him to take it easy and that Patrick would be home for lunch. David had just blinked at the note before throwing it in the trash, grabbing at the banana with far more force than necessary, steely determination growing inside him.</p><p class="p1">He brewed a cup of coffee at his normal strength - not the horribly bland decaf Patrick had been making for him - before dousing his face and meticulously going through his skin care routine. His skin was showing all the usual signs of stress - a dry patch between his eyebrows, a pimple making itself known on his chin, and the pores on his nose might as well have been craters. He shuddered, and set to work on his perfectly crafted appearance, the familiar steps helping to still the shake in his hands.</p><p class="p1">It took a good hour, but he had his skin shining and moisturized, his hair brush and styled to perfection, his body clad in the skirted pants and black sweater with stars that always made him feel confident, four gold rings circling his fingers. He nodded at his reflection in the mirror, satisfied, before settling on the next important task - bribing Stevie to drive him to the store.</p><p class="p1">Surprisingly, it only took the promise of two bottles of wine and some minor begging to get her to agree. David suspected she would have agreed even without the wine - she seemed suspiciously eager to see him - but the guilt that gnawed at him for putting her out wouldn’t let him take it back.</p><p class="p1">She arrived within the hour, a frown on her brow.</p><p class="p1">“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep that up,” David said, poking at her forehead after he got in the car. “I’m astonished you don’t already have any.”</p><p class="p1">“Asshole,” Stevie said, her eyes not leaving David’s face. “Are you sure you’re up to this? Why isn’t Patrick driving you?”</p><p class="p1">David pointedly ignored her stare. “It’s my store and I’ve been gone too long already.”</p><p class="p1">“Not what I asked,” Stevie grumbled under her breath but put the car into drive anyways. It was warm outside, the heatwave that started a few days ago still unrelenting, and David felt sweat prickle at his temples, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. David knew Stevie’s AC had been busted for weeks now, and even if it wasn’t, he was far too stubborn to ask for her to turn it on.</p><p class="p1">But of course Stevie’s disconcerting Spidey-sense must have pinged, because she rolled down David’s window without a word. The delicious breeze hit his face and he closed his eyes in delight, knowing the wind might mess up his hair, but not bringing himself to care.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks.” The word was barely a whisper, but a smile pulled at Stevie’s lips, her hand reaching out to give David’s knee a quick squeeze.</p><p class="p1">Before he knew it they were pulling up in front of the store and David could see Patrick through the glass window front, helping an elderly lady by the cheese fridge. He looked adorable, with that earnest look on his face as he listened to the customer, nodding his head along to whatever she was saying. Stevie’s car gave a loud cough as she put it in park and David could see Patrick turn to look out the window, frowning when he spotted them.</p><p class="p1">“That doesn’t look like he knows you’re coming,” Stevie said accusatorially, looking over at David as Patrick turned back to the customer,, his shoulders pinched higher than they were before.</p><p class="p1">“Well, thanks for the ride,” David said breezily, opening the door and quickly stepping out. The heat and change in gravity hit him like a sledge hammer and he fell back against the side of Stevie’s car as his vision grayed out, his ears ringing.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, you okay?” Stevie’s voice sounded miles away, but David could feel her hand on his arm through the pins and needles and he forced a nod, frantically trying to blink his vision back into focus.</p><p class="p1">“Peachy,” he breathed out when the world righted itself. He was pleased to see he’d stayed upright, and hopefully it had looked like a minor dizzy spell, something he could easily brush off. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”</p><p class="p1">“I believe I was promised some wine,” Stevie said, but the pinch in her brow told him that wasn’t the only reason. Whatever. He didn’t need the help, but if she was going to linger he wasn’t going to complain.</p><p class="p1">“What kind of taxi service demands payment in alcohol?” David asked as he pulled his sweater sleeves down, his arms suddenly prickling with goosebumps despite the heat, and turned to march to the store.</p><p class="p1">“Hey!” A playful swat at his shoulders. “I’m not your taxi service. Although, if the payment is more wine, I’m willing to make a business deal with you.”</p><p class="p1">“Right,” David responded with a chuckle as the bell on the door announced their entrance.</p><p class="p1">“Strictly business, of course,” Stevie said even as everyone in the store turned to look at them. Everyone being Patrick and the customer he was helping, and Alexis who was… painting her nails at the register?</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing?” David spat out at Alexis. “You’ll get polish on the oak!”</p><p class="p1">“Um, excuse me?” Alexis shot back. “What are you even doing here?”</p><p class="p1">Patrick looked torn, the customer - an elderly woman David didn’t recognize - still at his side and David knew his sense of professionalism wouldn’t allow him to question David in front of her, but he could see the tension on his face. It gave David a tiny spark of adrenaline; they clearly hadn’t thought he was well enough to come in today, but now look who was wrong.</p><p class="p1">“Hey David, why don’t you go to the back and I can meet you when I’m done helping Miss Sanchez,” Patrick said, a forced lightness to his voice.</p><p class="p1">“No, I think I’m good out here,” David said, a smile plastered to his face and Patrick just blinked at him before taking a breath and turning back to Miss Sanchez. Stevie’s eyebrows were almost up to her hairline, and Alexis’s lips were downturned in her <em>oh shit</em> expression as she slowly capped her bottle of nail polish.</p><p class="p1">David turned to take in the store; including the hospital stay it had been over a week since he’d been in, the longest he’d ever been away since it had opened. He was pleased to see things didn’t look too out of sorts, although there were some items that were very obviously not where they should be.</p><p class="p1">He ran his fingers along a row of body milks, straightening every bottle that was out of line, inspected the face wash and frowned at the less-aesthetically pleasing toothpaste put out in front of the bamboo toothbrushes instead of tucked behind like they should be. Miss Sanchez was taking her sweet time questioning Patrick about what she should get for her sister who had a severe gluten allergy so David took he opportunity to do some pointed rearranging and straightening of his products. Their products. Whatever.</p><p class="p1">He was just checking that the shipment of tea that had come in while he’d been gone had been properly labeled and displayed - and that there was no weed in this batch - when the tinkling of the bell announced Miss Sanchez departure.</p><p class="p1">“Watcha doing there, David?”</p><p class="p1">David could make out Patrick from the corner of his eye, arms folded over his chest, but he refused to meet his gaze.</p><p class="p1">“Inventory,” David answered lightly. Satisfied that the teas were all correct, he turned to the produce, eyeing the bin of locally grown apples. The apple in the front had an obvious bruise and David plucked it from the bin with distaste. From this angle he could see Stevie had moved to stand by Alexis and they were watching him with concern. David hated it.</p><p class="p1">“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” Patrick asked, his voice the stony pitch he adopted when he was upset but trying hard not to show it. “I thought we’d agreed you’d stay home today.”</p><p class="p1">David set the apple in the back of the bin, the bruise turned away. “I agreed to no such thing.”</p><p class="p1">He could hear Patrick sigh deeply, and part of him knew he was being obstinate, that he was asking for a fight they didn’t need to have, but a bigger part of him didn’t care. He felt antsy and anxious; a nervous energy thrummed under his skin and he didn’t know how to disperse it.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t do this, David,” Patrick said quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p><p class="p1">“Where’s the order from the Knight farm? It was supposed to be picked up two days ago.” David scanned the shelves for the preserves he had been overseeing the shipment of before his hospital stay.</p><p class="p1">“I arranged for it to be picked up next week,” Patrick responded, taking a step closer to David. “The Knights were happy to accommodate.”</p><p class="p1">“Thats… that’s not…” David floundered. “We have to honor our client contracts.”</p><p class="p1">“David.” Patrick placed a hand on David’s, stopping him from rearranging shelf of spices. “They were understanding. You don’t need to worry about all this right now.”</p><p class="p1">David’s eyes burned with an uncharacteristic - and frankly embarrassing - swell of emotion. He could hear Stevie whispering <em>I’m gonna go</em> to Alexis, the shuffling of her sneakers and the tiny bell above the door announcing her departure. Great, well one less person to see his fragile hold on sanity unwind.</p><p class="p1">“It’s my store.” The words came out in a choked whisper, almost reluctant.</p><p class="p1">“It’s <em>our</em> store,” Patrick countered. “And I’ve been taking very good care of it, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">David bit his bottom lip, looking around. Objectively, it did look good. Nothing too out of place, only a few staples missing or low on stock.</p><p class="p1">“The toothpaste was in the wrong spot. And that apple was bruised.”</p><p class="p1">Alexis gave an exaggerated groan. “<em>God David</em>. A thanks for keeping your store running would’ve been enough.”</p><p class="p1">A lump formed in David’s throat, so painful he could barely swallow around it, his face prickling with heat.</p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you leave us for a bit?” Patrick asked, barely audible over the sudden ringing in David’s ears. His vision tunneled and his heart was racing, his breath coming in hiccuping gasps and <em>good lord</em>, how embarrassing. But there was no stopping it, his grip on reality coming loose despite his desperate hold on the table in front of him and he was slipping, falling, spiraling.</p><p class="p1">Except he wasn’t, a heavy weight behind him, pressed against his back, wrapped around his chest. His breathing erratic and his head spun, his vision going in and out, bright sparks of light that he tried to press away with the palms of his hands. His coordination was off, his arms as clumsy as a stupid baby’s, and then held still, soft palms against his own.</p><p class="p1">“Shh, David.” A voice whispered in his ear, just audible over the damn ringing that wouldn’t go away. “Take a breath, okay? Deep breaths.”</p><p class="p1">David tried but the air caught on the lump in his throat, painfully jarring and he felt tears slip down his cheeks, and - ugh, so disgusting - snot dripping from his nose. But it was a passing concern as the panic set in because <em>he couldn’t breathe</em> and he was freaking out <em>thisisn’tadrilli’msuffocatingdrowningdying…</em></p><p class="p1">“…with me, okay?”</p><p class="p1">One hand on his face, the other leading his own hand to a solid chest, moving up and down with exaggerated breaths. Breaths David tried to copy, halting and painful at first, soon slowing into a more manageable rhythm.</p><p class="p1">“Good, just like that.”</p><p class="p1">The voice calm and steady, and David clung to it, his fingers curling into the soft fabric under his hand, holding tight, scared to let go.</p><p class="p1">“You’re doing great David, keep breathing just like that.”</p><p class="p1">It took a few more minutes - hours? years? centuries?- and more gentle encouragements before David could feel his tired heart slowing, his breathing evening into something that could be considered almost normal. He blinked as the world slowly came into focus around him and was surprised to see he was on the floor, packages of tea and herbs scattered on the floor around him.</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Patrick’s voice, soft in his ear. David turned his head towards the voice, greeted by Patrick’s beautiful face, his eyelashes clumped together with tears, nose red.</p><p class="p1">“Why’re you crying?” David mumbled, feeling like he missed something. Patrick gave a weak laugh, and David still felt a bit woozy, like he wasn’t running on all cylinders. He was awkwardly wedged between Patricks legs he noted, his fist tightly gripping Patrick’s shirt, his fingers feeling like they’d turned to stone.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck,” Patrick half laughed, half squeaked and like a horror movie reveal, David began to realize what must have happened. His eyes darted around before he realized they were blessedly alone.</p><p class="p1">“Did I…” David started before trailing off, unable to put into words what he was feeling.</p><p class="p1">Patrick was silent a moment, those big, soulful eyes flickering around David’s face, reading every inch of him.</p><p class="p1">“Have a panic attack?” Patrick finished for him, and David realized yes, that’s probably exactly what happened. The anxious thrumming under his skin all day, building and building. The irritability, the desire to prove everyone wrong, to prove himself, to prove <em>to </em>himself.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” David murmured, embarrassment heating his cheeks. He felt drained, rung out like an old dirty sponge, far past its expiration date.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t…” Patrick started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. He drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring cutely. God, David figured he really was a mess if he really thought nostrils were cute. “Do you feel like you can make it into the back room?”</p><p class="p1">David nodded even though, no, he really didn’t. Patrick gently unwound David’s hand from the vice grip on his shirt, the fabric stretched beyond repair, and slowly helped David to his feet. He waited patiently while David found his footing, and they made their way to the back room behind the counter where David flopped onto the second hand couch Twyla had sold to them to use for their breaks. Patrick disappeared for a moment, returning with a glass of ice water, condensation already forming on the cup. David accepted the glass gratefully, the cool liquid blissful on his parched tongue. His stomach turned after a few sips, and he set the cup on the table beside the couch with a clumsy clunk, water sloshing over the side.</p><p class="p1">Patrick sank into the couch beside David and David gave in, leaning his weight against Patrick’s without a thought, relishing in the comforting heat of his fiancé. Patricks hand was on David’s thigh, stroking a comforting rhythm and David thought he could easily stay here forever, just like this.</p><p class="p1">Of course, life doesn’t work like that.</p><p class="p1">“We should talk.”</p><p class="p1">The words fell abruptly into the quiet of the room and David tensed, mind already racing to the memories of the countless times he’d heard that phrase in the past, usually followed by something that left him empty and alone.</p><p class="p1">“And?” David asked, sitting up stiffly. He knew it was harsh and uncalled before, but some reflexes were ingrained too deep to change.</p><p class="p1">“David,” Patrick shifted so he was turned towards David, the grip on his thigh tightening, though not painfully. His voice was soft, and David could see tears glistening in his eyes. <em>Shit. </em>“David, I love you, okay? I <em>love</em> you.”</p><p class="p1">David felt his heart clench, a flutter in his stomach.</p><p class="p1">“But you need to talk to me. I can’t…” Patrick paused, waiting until David turned to meet his gaze. “I know this is hard for you. And I know you… I know you’re not ready to talk about it yet and I don’t want to push you, and I’ve been trying to give you the space you need but I can’t…” Patrick’s voice wavered, broke, a tear slipping down his cheek that he angrily scrubbed away.</p><p class="p1">David reached forward, taking Patrick’s hand in his, knowing it wasn’t enough but he needed to do something. When Patrick spoke again his voice was tight, like every word was a fight.</p><p class="p1">“It’s so hard to see you like that, and to feel you pushing me away and I don’t know how to hold on tighter without suffocating you, and I just… I don’t want to fight you, David. I don’t want to fight with you when I don’t know…”</p><p class="p1">And then Patrick broke down, sobs racking through his body, face crumpling and all David could do was open his arms, draw Patrick into him and let him cry.</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just realized I ended two chapters with Patrick crying. Oops. </p><p>Take care lovelies.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Reviews are love! Thank you &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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